Expedition Open Voyage to Croper's Cove: Hang the Treasure!

[Kinza Rainclaw]

Lieutenant Songfox's voice rang out, drawing attention to the ocean.

Kinza was already sitting on a bulwark, and someone was going to have to go down there and secure the lines to the boat once they were thrown. She was as good a beast as any to take initiative and she'd accept punishment if not following direct orders was the crime.

"SECOND BEAST OVERBOARD!" she yelled, with perhaps a bit too much glee. Abandoning her cutlass on the deck, she threw herself over the rails into a dive.

She hit the water with almost the grace of an otter and popped up, taking in a shock of air. At last some action! Green eyes sought out the adrift dinghy and she swam fast to seize it.​

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail had just eased the throttle up, feeling the rhythmic tug of the engine settle into a strong, confident beat. The gauges sat right where he wanted them, pressure firm and steady, the Hide’s iron heart driving her forward under both sail and steam.

Then suddenly, a shout echoed down from the brass voice tube from above:
“BEAST OVERBOARD!!”

Swift’s ears snapped upright. He and Thura locked eyes across the glow of the firebox, her pupils wide as coins.

“Full stop!” he barked, instincts kicking in before thought could catch up. "Thura, twist that knob there, counterclockwise! Aye, that one!"

She scrambled to obey, paws skidding on the deckplates as she seized the relief valve. Swift’s paw clamped onto the throttle lever and hauled it back, easing it as fast as he dared. The engine bellowed its protest, rods clanking and wheels groaning as the power was cut.

Thura wrenched the valve open. Steam roared out in a hot white rush, filling the room in a choking fog. In heartbeats, both foxes were slick with condensation, fur clinging dark and damp to their frames.

"Alright, shut it now!"

She spun the wheel back, the hiss dwindling to a sullen whisper. The engine shuddered once, then settled into an unhappy, rattling stillness.

Swift coughed, wiped his sleeve across his muzzle, and squinted through the thinning mist at the gauges. Pressure dropping, but within safe bounds. Water level steady. No spikes or runaway boil.

He let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Thura huffed beside him, whiskers dripping. "Is d'at a common t'ing!?" she demanded, half-panicked, half trying to joke. "’Cause if'n it is, I’m puttin’ in fer a transfer!"

Swift gave a breathless, shaky little laugh. "Nay… this one’s new," he admitted, heart still hammering. "An’ let’s keep it that way..."

He checked the gauges one last time, confidence growing that they hadn't screwed up the careful balance, when suddenly a sickening thought knifed its way through his chest.

Finny!

For one wild moment he saw the foxkit in his mind’s eye, tumbling from the rail into the churning wake, the Hide running on without him. His stomach lurched.

"C’mon," he blurted, already turning for the ladder. "We gotta see who fell in!"

He broke into a run, paws thudding on the damp wood as he bolted for the companionway, tail flagging, breath sharp in his throat. Thura pelted after him, dropping shovel and coal without a second thought, paws clattering as they scrambled up toward the deck and the shouting above.

 

[Arthur Barrett]

It all happened so fast. Before Arthur could even register what was happening, Kinza bolted across the deck and dove over the railing.

The poor marten's muzzle dropped agape. He couldn't believe it. "Aww hellgates..." he groaned. Dashing over to the railing, he looked over the edge to survey the scene. There, he spied a rather wounded mouse, and seconds later, Kinza surfacing to his aide.

"This crew!" he muttered to Amnesty. "ANYONE ELSE DIVES OVER AND I'LL SKIN YE ALIVE!" he roared. "We have POLES! And pulleys, and ladders! We're not a little fishing dingy, for Vulpuz's sake!"

 

[Amnesty Greysoul]

And just like that, further conversation would have to wait. Amnesty followed close on Arthur's heels and saw all the same things the marten surgeon did.

"Hellgates!" The word hissed unbidden through her teeth.

And then she was off again at a dead run, heading for the aforementioned poles, ropes, and ladders, pulling at least two or three of the present deckpaws with her to get it all into place.

"You and you, help me throw these down. Sharpish!"

 

[Till Dupré]

Till had only just started exploring their new galley when they heard a lot of shouting and the ship drew to a stop. For a moment they wondered whether there was something wrong with the engine or what else the ship might have run into. Or had someone forgotten something important? Her galley helpers looked somewhat nervous though Till assumed that had a lot more to do with her presence than what was going on upstairs.

"I will go look what is ze matter," they said to the kitchen staff. "Please butter zose pie dishes and don't pinch any fruit."

They hurried for the stairs.​

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

While talking to his cousin, Alwyn kept his son in his vision, watching the tearful goodbye between him and his lizard-thing friend, Cricket. His son had often talked about her and how much she had helped him, and he remembered how she had tried to save him when that house fire had occurred. She had also helped to ground and stabilize him in the emotional aftermath of the revelation that he was his father. In return for her help, he had decided to give her one of his house keys when she had come around to see Finnian, though he did not pressure her to use it, knowing that she had likely grown up on the streets and would be leery of any more forceful directions. While he had never seen her particular kind before, he knew that lizards in general did not do well in the cold, and his relatively newly-built apartment was kept warm throughout the winter, and hoped that she would use it while they were away to Croper’s Cove at least.

I also left some some canned food and gilders for her, tucked away where Finnian would not know, and a small letter for her before we set out detailing where it was and how he does not know about it, if she chooses to use them.. She needs to be able to keep some of her pride after all.

He was also not entirely blind to the deeper bond seeming to form between them, and, watching Finnian trying to hold back his emotions and disappear belowdecks after their heartfelt goodbye, it seemed to have grown even more. He debated going down to comfort his son, but, like Cricket, he needed to retain some measure of his pride for his own self-worth and confidence. He would check in on him later, of course, but by then he suspected Finnian would have collected himself-he was a very resilient kit.

I do not think it has yet blossomed into anything more than friendship openly, but, I will have to keep an eye on them. I do not want either of them to get hurt more than is normal, and, of course, the species difference lends questions on how long-term it could last. Of course, Daniil made it work with Caden, but he is oriented in a different way, and never seemed inclined to have his own kits, and I saw how Finnian looked at that pretty server vixen, and of course, the pressure he will inevitably feel as he gets older as the heir to our House after me. Daniil never had that weight on his shoulders. ‘Gates, things are more complicated than when I was young, but no matter what happens, I still want them to remain friends.

He answered his cousin’s question first before going into more about Kinza.

“Yes, he is a good kit, just going through a lot. I’ll tell you more about that and him later, but, right now I think it is better for him to be alone. He’s strong, but Cricket is a dear friend of his and such partings can be painful at his age.”

His eyes flicked towards Lorcan once more, and he wondered if his cousin had anybeast he cared for in such a manner back wherever he came from before he came from the Imperium, or anyone special waiting for him in the Harbor, but he would have to get him know more. His eyes fell to the sprocket pendant, and then he cast another look towards Kinza as she sat closer to the edge of the ship. She, too, was still a mystery to him. Did she have anyone waiting for her?

“I confess such sciences are beyond me as well, except for how to maintain and fire a cannon, but-”

“BEAST OVERBOARD!”

Alwyn sprung into action in moments, his training kicking in even before his conscious mind was aware of what was happening, sprinting towards the edge of the ship, but Kinza was quicker than he was, dipping over the railing in a graceful dive. He reached her former location soon after, quickly scooping up her cutlass as he did so and securing it to his belt without thinking- he had been taught to never leave a weapon unattended and unsecured. He was initially a bit worried, but it seemed her parents had trained her well-she was already moving towards the wrecked ship that had shown up in and seemed like a natural.

He did not have much time to reflect as the ship suddenly seemed to screech to a halt, causing him to become unbalanced for a moment, and he had to steady himself against a nearby crate to afford falling over. That immediate kind of stop was something he had never experienced on any other ship before, and he wondered what kind of devilry was at work to give the Hide such maneuverability, but soon a grizzled older Marten began to bark out orders-he did not seem to be an officer proper, but seemed to know what he was doing and he was wise enough to know that sometimes the more experienced ranker-types knew better than even the officers. He turned around to look for his cousin as he shouted.

“Lorcan! You know more than me about this! What should we do here?”

@FinnianBrightfur @Lorcan Rainclaw @Kinza Rainclaw​

 

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

Whatever Lorcan's reflections were on Alwyn's reply, they were dismissed in the instant of somebeast shouting of a beast overboard. His gaze snapped to the railings. Strange: he'd neither seen commotion nor expected crew to be so green as to fall from the deck, least of all so soon after departure. He witnessed a flash of red fur as his sister dived overboard and warred between a roll of the eyes and a smirk. Bit of a high dive, but she always did like to make an impression.

Having never sailed aboard an engine-aided vessel, the call to stop pitched Lorcan forward. His large tailbrush puffed out, sticking straight out behind him in an instinctive, albeit comical-looking, attempt to provide counterbalance. No sooner was he stabilised he was bounding after Alwyn to peer over the side.

Oh. Huh. That explained that, he supposed. "Well, isn't that just somethin'." The todd sniffed, eyeing the little craft and its lone occupant curiously. He'd have rather liked to swing down himself and ask a few questions or help his sister, but a flick of the ear caught the stern shouts of a sturdy marten who he supposed held authority. For now he'd stay his paw.

Pushing away from the railings, Lorcan backpawed Alwyn in the chest in a friendly manner and pointed to the beasts assembling under the direction of a light-furred vixen who also seemed possessed of an air of authority. "We do as we're told, I suppose. Kinza's always been a strong swimmer, so might as well help her and...whoever this is get back up."

Hailing Amnesty as he trotted over, the sturdy todd moved to the small group and threw a hasty salute. "I can help with any haulin' in, ma’am. Want us to just get the beasts aboard or the liddle boat, too?"

 

[Elliot Berkshaw]

He dreamed.

He dreamed of a dark night, a roaring storm, a beast’s jubilant yowl of victory.

He dreamed of a desperate fight for survival - a heavily out matched chase on a rocky shore, backlit by the moon overhead - one that was lost…

But something, someone, had said… “Not yet.”

He dreamed of searing pain. Agony coursing through his body, his veins, with every breath.

He dreamt of moving shadows, of laughter, of a dark wooden room on some sort of vast ship that rode the waves at a fast pace.

He dreamt of beady eyes watching his every move, of a brutish weasel with hazel eyes, of a want to escape from being a prisoner on the crimson sailed ship.

He dreamt… of a small boat, adrift in a vast ocean…

…

….

Voices.

Sails and rigging of a ship flapping in the wind, striking masts and other things.

Waves lapping against an object.

It was hard to breathe. His body, weak as it was, struggled for air.

What was left of his left arm sent his mind spiraling with blinding pain each time he dared to move it.

Elliot forced his eyes open, only to see a blurred outline of… a truly massive ship practically on top of the rowboat he was in.

This ship didn’t have crimson sails. It looked a lot nicer, cleaner, than the pirate ship he had awoken on.

He waited for his vision to clear, drawing shallow breaths as his gaze drifted from one end of the ship to the other.

There were a lot of beasts on the giant ship. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen so many in one place, if any.

He noted the vast amount of cannons that were visible, and wondered if some warship had found him.

The blue eyed mouse let his gaze fall to his wounded body. Claw marks, deep slashes, the missing arm… Not to mention the state of his clothes.

The tattered pieces of fabric felt like they were going to fall from his body, it was a miracle they had lasted this long.

In his remaining paw, was clutched his coin pouch, tied shut with a drawstring. Somehow the pirates hadn’t taken it, and had let him keep it.

It took a few tries, but Elliot managed to loosen said drawstring and take a look inside.

Resting on top, amongst the bloodstained coins, was a metal token.

He inwardly sighed with relief as he tugged the drawstring shut - the pirates hadn’t taken his proof of working with the Ministry.

‘What a tale I have to tell them… if I ever see them again…’

There was someone near the rowboat, but he couldn’t exactly tell who that was, or what.

The mouse decided to heave himself upright, propping himself up against the side of the rowboat - which was admittedly slowly taking on water by now - and waited.

Those on the ship had noticed him, judging by all the shouting, and were probably going to bring him aboard.

He could only hope they were friendly.

 

[Kinza Rainclaw]

The vixen's paws clamped to the side of the rowboat as she drew up alongside it, popping her head up to better see the occupant. She was surprised to see they were conscious, but wounded by the looks of it, and more so that they were a mouse. Kinza hadn't really met any mice before, at least not the kind from this side of the world. Her parents had spoken of them, although there was something distant in her father's eyes when they did.

"Ya all right, matey," she said with a smile as she trod water. Gates, it was colder than the shores of Kutoroka, especially this time of year, but safe enough for a quick dip. "I'm Kinza. This is the Golden Hide from the Imperium. Let's get you some help, eh?"

She turned to face the ship, ready to catch whatever was thrown their way and started to tug the boat toward it as she paddled. Half an eye was kept upon the stranger in case he didn't take kindly to her presence and fancied proving violent.​

 

[Amnesty Greysoul]

"Just the beasts, I should think," said Amnesty, "unless the officers think different. Leastways, that's my priority."

The knot of sea beasts was already at the railing, a fine example in efficiency. Lorcan and Alwyn's presence seemed to be a steadying one. Sparing a glance over the rail, the white vixen saw that the strange mouse had managed to get himself sitting upright. If nothing else, it meant not dead. Though given the apparent extent of his injuries it seemed possible he might wish otherwise before the day was through.

"I hate to say it for fear of giving the wrong impression, but this'll be faster since Kinza's already down there. Let's get those ropes, harness, and pulleys secure and the ladders over the edge. That beast will need to be hauled up." A pause as she glanced back. Good. There was a stretcher handy.

She cupped her paws around her muzzle and shouted down to the two beasts below. "The rescue harness is coming down in just a moment. Stranger, Kinza there will help get you secure and keep you from getting all knocked about on the way up, understand?" She locked eyes with the other vixen. "Think that'll work, Kinza?"

There wasn't time to dwell on it now, but somewhere, dimly, a part of Amnesty watched on in terror as she all but barked orders. So much for lying low.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue ran over to the rails, jaws agape as he watched Kinza THROW herself overboard. That certainly was not what he'd been expecting. That would have to be discussed later, as it was clear this mouse needed immediate medical attention.

"You lot get them both up here, double time!" Silvertongue called out. He felt odd just barking out orders like this. He wanted to get in there and help, but he had to maintain his image as a lieutenant. So he allowed the sailors to pull the poor mouse up.

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Well THAT wasn't how he expected things to go down. First, his new aide directing the rescue efforts before he could even open his muzzle?

AND Lieutenant Songfox barking orders and taking charge?

The marten was left SPEECHLESS! He sat back to watch the situation unfold, jaw agape -- while an existential anxiety gnawed at him. If he didn't need to yell at people... ...what would he even do aboard the ship?

 

[Corporal Sarra Piper]

@Corporal Sarra Piper

It’d been a long time. A long time since she was first put on the track that had brought her here, since she’d first been sent to the Hide. Dark days and cold winds, Vulpinists and cannibals, she’d faced it all, and somehow she was still alive.

The captain spoke, and Vihma’s spine stiffened, first for obligation, and then, as his words passed over her, a sense of pride still unfamiliar after all the years. She raised her muzzle in recognition, letting the feeling fill her heart, wearing it like the green and white she longed to wear, those colors that had distinguished themselves so well on Urk’s shores.

Henceforth, she was a marine. She thought to say something back to Gyles, to the officer she’d fought with twice now, who’d even helped to save her life in Urk’s chilling waters. The moment passed before she could, before she could find something worth saying.

She felt different in a way she still couldn’t quite place, even as the gathering began to disperse. She thought to find Morgan, to steal away with her someplace, so she could express herself to someone she trusted to listen, to help her figure herself out. The captain had wanted Morgan to stay, however, and so Vihma found herself somewhat alone, stuck with herself and her thoughts. Alone, but only for the moment.

Piper’s calling her by her new rank snapped her back to her senses, new reality forming up behind the other weasel’s words. She wasn’t alone at all anymore – the marines were her own.

Vihma smiled, throwing up a quick, casual salute for the corporal.

“I’d be ‘onored, mate. T’tell ye the truth, I liked it a tad better than me bow. Bit surprised ye’d want t’part with it, even considerin’…”

The weasel cut herself off, smile faltering into something of a wince. She’d hardly even known Piper before the fighting back on the island, before her injury, but it still got to her sometimes, still made her pause, slip up. Still made her think of what they'd been through together.

She raised her muzzle again, carrying herself with a little more of the pride she'd felt earlier, letting it push other thoughts away. The ease with which it did so pushed something of a smile back into her features, enough to spread to her eyes.

“I’ll make ye ‘n Tultow proud, I promise ‘at much. If I manage t’shoot even ‘alf as good as ye, I think I can make good on it.”

Piper gave Vihma a warm, if slightly weary, smile. The way the crew danced around her condition had begun to grate slightly; she knew it was with the best of intentions, but she certainly hadn't forgotten that she would never have the use of her lower body ever again. Avoiding the topic wouldn't banish it from her mind. "I know you will," she confirmed. "Tultow told me about how you stepped up on Urk. He doesn't give out invitations to the marines based on a whim, and certainly not on pity. That you're one of us now is entirely because you earned your place. Now, why don't we-"

The sounds of chaos as a beast was spotted in the ocean (she thought on a boat, though in the mixture of noise she couldn't be sure she'd heard correctly) interrupted them, and Piper looked curiously to where the crew congregated along the rail. "Maybe we can wait on the first lesson," she allowed. "It seems like things are going to be a bit busy today. Certainly we'll have lots of time to get you used to firing from a variety of positions. Oh," she recalled something, putting a paw to her forehead. "Before I forget: at official military events you're going to meet a lot of idiots who want to talk to you about this whole 'trigonometry' thing that some artillerists came up with to calculate their shots. Just ignore every word out of their mouths and resist the urge to punch them. You know what you're doing a lot more based on experience and a good eye than any amount of math can accomplish, okay? Don't let them convince you otherwise."

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail reached the rail with his heart still trying to climb out of his throat, eyes sweeping the water in a sharp, frantic search before sense could quite catch up. A vixen’s head broke the surface. A rowboat, battered but afloat, bobbed nearby. Aboard was the small, broken shape of a mouse.

The breath he’d been holding tore loose from his chest in a long, shuddering exhale, shoulders sagging as the tension bled out of him all at once. For a heartbeat he simply stood there, paws braced on the rail, letting the cold air bite his lungs back into something steady. It wasn't little Finny! Stars above… thank you.

The deck had already found its rhythm again. Lines were being hauled, voices raised with purpose rather than panic. Amnesty’s clear commands cut through the din, and Silvertongue’s orders followed close behind, firm and unhesitating. Swift watched it all with a quiet, dawning pride. They had it in paw. He didn’t need to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, but he wasn’t about to hole up in the engine room again yet, either.

His gaze returned to the water below. Kinza was speaking to the mouse now, keeping him upright as the rescue lines were lowered. He was alive! That alone felt like a small victory, whoever he was.

Swift stayed where he was, alert but still, watching the careful ballet of the rescue unfold. Whatever story had carried that battered little boat into their path, it would come soon enough. For now, it was enough to witness it, ready to move only if called, as the Golden Hide held fast and her crew proved, once again, that they knew how to look after their own.